The Giraffe With the Broken Neck
by Anya Cavanaugh
Summary: The life of the Thompson Sisters before they entered Shibusen, before they encountered Death the Kid, before they were even known as the Thompson Sisters. Back when they had a happy family and a happy life and a stuffed giraffe to top it all off. A backstory narrated by Elizabeth "Liz" Thompson. REVIEW, FOLLOW AND FAVORITE :)
1. Mr Jaffy-Jeffry-Giraffey

**Chapter 1 – Mr. Jaffy/Jeffry/Giraffey**

**_10 YEARS AGO_**

"Happy birthday, Patti!" mum, dad and I cheered simultaneously as my little sister, who turned three today, blew out the candles of her pick frosted cake.

"Have you made your wish?" mum asked.

Patti nodded eagerly.

"Well, what did you wish for?"

"I can't tell you!" she squealed. "If I do, my wish won't come twue!"

Mum giggled and ruffled Patti's hair. "All right, if you say so, dearie."

"Patti, it's time to open your presents," dad said, motioning towards the three, neatly wrapped gifts, complete with a glittering silver bow. "Which one would you like to open first?"

"Mine! Mine!" I immediately exclaimed. "Open mine first, Patti!"

Patti tittered and waddled over to the pile of presents. "Okee dokee, sis! Ooh, where is it?"

"The one on the bottom, Patti!" I was growing excited and impatient by the minute. "Hurry up and open it! I'm wetting my pants!"

"Liz!" mum cried.

"I'm just kidding, mum," I said with a laugh. Dad and Patti joined in as well, although I'm sure Patti has no idea what she's laughing about. "I'm just really excited to see Patti unwrap my present! Hurry up already!"

Patti plopped down on the floor and picked my present from the pile. It was simple, with bunny rabbits, and rather flat. Hopefully Patti liked it.

Scratch that. I hope Patti _loved _it.

"SQUEE!" Patti screeched and held up my gift—a coloring book and a set of crayons—in the air. For a second there, she looked really happy. Then she looked confused and turned to me. "What is it?"

"It's a coloring book," I explained and flipped through it, revealing a multitude of black and white outlines of forest animals, flowers, castles and fairy tale characters. "See?"

"OHWEE! I love it! Thank you, sis!" Patti squeezed me in a tight, little, three-year-old hug. I hugged her right back, enveloping her tiny body with my longer arms.

"I'm glad you liked it," I said, my heart bursting with joy.

"What about daddy's gift, Patti?" dad said in a pretend, sad tone, and pushed up his spectacles. "Aren't you going to open it, too?"

"Yes!" she shouted, returned to the rest of the gifts and pulled out a longer, flimsier package wrapped in gold wrapping paper. "Ooh, shiny!"

Patti tore off the paper to reveal a flowery cotton dress, a perfect fit for a toddler like her. "So pwetty, daddy! Thank you!" She gave him a hug as well; her outstretched arms barely reached the ends of his wide stomach.

Dad let out a hearty, belly laugh and threw Patti into the air, making her squeal and squirm midair. "My pleasure, princess!"

"Hey!" I complained. "I want to fly, too!"

Dad smiled and set Patti down. "All right. Come on now, Liz!"

Grinning from ear to ear, I scrambled on to dad's lap. "Make me fly, daddy! Make me fly!" I said excitedly, waving both hands in the air.

"Sit still then," he said and I instantly obeyed. Dad slipped his hands under my arms and _whoosh! _The sensation of being airborne made my whole body tingle and I laughed out loud as I came back down.

"Again! Again!" I shrilled. "Again, daddy!"

"But it's my birthday!" Patti shrieked. "I shwuld fly mowe than Lizzy!"

"But—"

"Hey, no need to quarrel over such simple things," mum intervened. "How about this? After Patti unwraps her last gift, we'll cut the cake and _then _have a piggyback race!"

Mum's decision immediately lifted my spirit. Patti's eyes brightened as well. "PIGGYBACK RIDE! PIGGYBACK RIDE! YAY!"

"Patti! Hurry up and open the last present! Hurry!" I urged and shook her tiny limbs. She nodded vigorously and furiously ripped mum's surprisingly tall gift, sealed in yellow and orange spotted paper.

It was a box. Nothing so special about it on the outside, but no doubt, a surprise was waiting inside. Patti lifted the box and shook it, but there came no sound. Her little fingers trembled with excitement as she opened the top.

A smiling giraffe head popped out and bobbed up and down.

"A GWAFE!" Patti shrieked. "I LOVE GWAFES! I'LL NAME . . . HIM MISTA GWAFEY!"

"I, uh, what?" I said. "Mr. . . . Jaffy?"

"NO, GWAFEY!" Patti insisted. "GWAFEY, LIZ! GWAFEY!"

"I think she meant to say 'Jeffrey', sweetie," dad told me patiently.

"NOOOOO! GWAFEEEEYYY!"

"I think she meant 'Giraffey', dear," mum spoke to my dad.

"YES! YES! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AWEADY! THANK YOU MUMMY!" She leapt up and wrapped her arms around mum's neck, clinging onto her like a monkey on a banana tree.

Now that I think about it, Patti _does _resemble a monkey in a way. The mental image made me chortle. Dad looked at me like I just grew out another head on the side of my neck.

Mum embraced Patti for a few minutes before gently peeling her off.

"So," she said, "who's up for cake?"

"I AM! I AM! I AM!" Patti and I screamed the house down. It's a good thing our neighbors are really nice; otherwise, they would already be banging on our front door by now.

Mum evenly cut up two slices of pink cake and placed them on gold party plates. Patti and I scrambled up for the biggest piece.

"Hey, I want that one!" Patti said, pointing at my plate. She thought it was the bigger slice, but in truth there was hardly a difference. But I decided to play along.

"Finders keepers, Patti," I taunted. "Losers weepers."

For a six-year-old mocking a three-year-old, I think I might've taken a step too far with that joke. Patti's lower lip quivered and she burst into tears.

"Oh, look what you've done, Liz!" mum reprimanded and picked Patti up to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, I was just joking around," I said. "Sorry, Patti."

"Meanie," Patti said between sobs. "M-Meanie! Meanie!"

Mum looked at me disapprovingly.

"Gee, I already apologized," I said with an irritated huff. "Here, Patti, you want my cake or what?"

"Meanie!" she said, but before I could respond, Patti snatched it out of my hands.

"Well, okay then."

"Now hurry up, girls," dad said. "If you don't, we won't have enough time for a piggyback race."

My eyes lit up and Patti let out a small gasp.

_I completely forgot about the piggyback race!_

I gobbled up my cake and practically threw the plate aside when I was done. "I'm ready!"

"Me foo!" Patti said through a mouthful of chocolate and strawberry cake. "Waif foh me! Can I wide with daddy?"

"Sure," dad said and hoisted Patti onto his wide back with ease.

"And bwing Mista Gwafey, too!"

"All right, all right."

"Ready, Liz?" mum asked, squatting down so that I could clamber on her back.

"Ready!" I said enthusiastically and hopped on. Mum was caught off guard and toppled forward to the floor.

"Careful, Liz!"

"Sorry."

"So, are we all ready?" Dad asked.

"YES!" Patti and I screamed spontaneously.

"All right. On my count. On your marks, get set, go!"

And we raced up and down the hallways of our two-story house, not caring about anything else, shrieking and squealing and giggling like mad like there was no tomorrow. I felt as if my heart could burst any minute from all the happiness.

Birthdays are always the best days of the year.


	2. Breach of Faith

**Chapter 2 – Breach of Faith**

_**5 YEARS LATER**_

"Yes . . . Um? . . . Yes, dear? . . . What? The seventh? But Liz's birthday is next week. You can't just— . . . What's that you say? . . . Really now, Harold? . . . You're prioritizing work over family! . . . That's insane! No, Harold, _you _listen to me! I am not allowing you to skip—Hello? Hello?!"

With a nettled groan, mum clicked the phone shut and slammed it on the counter, and sighed loudly, exasperatedly.

"What's the matter, mum?" Patti asked, munching on her beef stew. "Daddy's not coming back?"

Mum took a deep breath and said, "No, sweetie. He's just . . . really busy, is all."

"With work?" I said incredulously. "He's been in Philadelphia for two weeks now!"

"Now, now, Liz—"

"Don't you 'now, now' me, mum! You can't just leave him on his own out there for two weeks—"

"Liz, you're making your dad sound like a lost puppy."

"—And how would you know if he's not seeing other women behind your back—"

Next thing I know, my cheek was red and stinging and Patti screeched in fright. "THAT'S ENOUGH, LIZ!" Mum fumed, her entire face red. "YOU ARE NOT TO SAY ANOTHER NASTY WORD ABOUT YOUR FATHER, YOU STINKING, LITTLE—"

"Mum, don't say bad words!" Patti cried, close to tears.

Mum stood frozen in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, and heaved a long sigh. "You're right. I'm so sorry . . ."

"Damn right you are," I mumbled under my breath, stirring my cold stew but not eating it. I wasn't hungry anymore.

"Did you say something, Liz?" mum said.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I said, _no_, mum. I think I would be well aware of the things I say out loud, wouldn't you think so?"

"Okay, okay, Liz, I understand your point. ("No, you don't!" I wanted to shout back at her). You don't have to get so touchy about it. Since when did you even become _this _overly sensitive? You're not even sixteen yet!"

"Just you wait until I _turn _sixteen," I muttered inaudibly once more. I didn't know if mum heard me this time, but she didn't say anything, and took a seat in front of me. She mustered a faint smile and leaned close.

"Listen, Liz, I know you're upset that dad won't be available on your birthday," she said apprehensively, as if one word might detonate the bomb inside of me (there is a 99.9% chance).

"Your cleavage is showing," I pointed out blatantly, and mum quickly fixed her V-neck blouse. She didn't make much of a difference to it.

"But what I'm trying to say is just give him another chance. It's all I'm asking for. He's worked himself to the bone to provide this family with the money we need to sustain you two: for food, for your school."

"Money?" I repeated with a snort. "Is that all you care about, mum? Rolling around in riches while dad works himself to the bone?" I finished with a roll of my tongue, as if spitting out some disgusting stew.

"No, that's not what I meant at all—"

"Then what _do _you mean, mum? Come, tell me. I'm dying to know."

Mum stood up so abruptly, the table shook.

"Liz, I'm warning you! Any more cheek from you, I'll—"

"You'll what, mum? Throw me out of the house even though _dad's _worked himself to the bone?"

Mum was very red with anger.

"Don't hide it from me, mum!" I screamed in her face, nearly flipping my bowl.

I received another 'well earned' slap, and unable to take the tension anymore, Patti broke down in uncontrollable sobs.

"Oh, look what you've done!" mum scowled at me and picked up the wailing Patti. "Hush, now, Patti. I didn't mean any of them—"

"Of course you don't." I pushed my still full plate away and rose from the chair. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in my room."

"And I'll be down the street if you need anything."

"And why, mother _dearest_, would you be down the street?" I asked—slandered really—even though I already knew the answer.

"I'll be down by the _shop_ for the groceries," mum corrected herself hastily. "Now if you'll _excuse _me." She shoved us aside, strode out the front door and slammed the door without a word, but before she left, I heard her murmur irritably to herself, "Chumpy Elizabeth. I just don't know how to get through to her . . ."

No, she wasn't going to the shops to buy groceries.

I was seething and boiling with anger. Chumpy, my ass! I'll show her a thing or two! I'll drive a screwdriver through her skull 'til her brain—if she has one—comes oozing out in grey matter! I'll pierce her heart with the kitchen knife! I'll shove her out of a fifty feet window! I'll shove her down a street full of speeding cars and trucks! I'll—

Patti tugging at my shirt halted my raging, rampant, dangerous train of murderous thoughts, silently wiping away tears from her puffy eyes. She was already in her pink, fluffy bunny pajamas with matching slippers.

"I-I want to go to bed," she sniveled. "Read me a story."

So I did. I sat on the edge of her bed, squeaking and creaking as I did so, and opened a book that was near the leg.

"No, not that one," she said, clutching Mr. Jaffy/Jeffry/Girrafey, who now had a crooked neck and could use a good washing. "This!"

I looked at the cover of the hardback and frowned. "Patti, we've read 'Jerry the Giraffe' a million times before."

"So? I like that book! Read it, or I'll tear down all your BSB posters in your sleep!"

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh, I will!"

I gave in. "Fine, fine." I sullenly opened the book and began to read in a monotone voice. "Jerry the Giraffe lived in the savannah. He lived a content life; had all the grass he wanted to eat, had a nice, shady tree to sleep under. He was very happy.

Patti was inching closer in excitement.

"One day, he noticed something was missing. He went searching and searching for it, but he couldn't find it. Until he realized, he didn't even know what he was looking for."

The more I think about this children's story, the more I think it makes absolutely no sense.

"Keep reading, I want to know the ending!" Patti encouraged.

"I've read you the ending a million times already!" I half-shouted, not wanting to scare my little sister into tears again.

"But—" her eyes turned glassy and she pouted her bottom lip.

"Dammit, fine! Jerry sat alone under his tree, playing with a blade of grass, when it hit him. He had no family nor friends."

Well, isn't that just pitiful? What kind of children's book is this? Who published this? Who wrote this nonsense?

I snapped the book shut and tutted Patti before she could speak.

"But you're at the best part!"

"No, that book is stupid. Now tuck yourself in. I want to sleep, too."

Patti was quiet.

"Liz, can I ask you something?" she asked.

"What?" I nearly spat.

"Why do you keep fighting with mum? And why is dad always gone? I miss him."

I bit my lip to stop myself from sighing aloud. "I don't know. But I do know, Patti, that . . . we may not be a real family any longer."

"A real family?! What do you mean?"

"It means . . . Promise me you won't tell anyone, Patti?"

She held out her pinky. "I promise."

I linked my own little finger with hers, my heart pounding in my ears. "Mum . . . is seeing someone else, Patti. She betrayed dad."

"Huh?"

"I, uh, it's—how do I say this? Mum and dad are going to be divorced soon. It means that they'll leave each other and separated ways. She doesn't love dad anymore."

Patti looked aghast and I suddenly wished I hadn't let anything slip. She's far too young for this.

"I mean, like . . . Ugh, I shouldn't have said anything. This is too damn hard to explain. You'll understand when you're older. Good night." I stomped out the door.

"Wait, Liz! Will mum and dad be alright?"

"I DON'T KNOW, PATTI! MAYBE NOT EVER!" I exploded.

"LIZ! HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOW THIS?"

"EVER SINCE I FOUND MUM'S HIDDEN STASH OF MONEY UNDER THE MATTRESS AND LOADS OF OTHER THINGS! NOW SHUT UP!"

"LIZ! DON'T LEAVE ME!"

But I had slammed my door shut and double bolted it, and that night, like any other night, I cried myself to sleep and struggled to stop the haunting thoughts of our soon-to-be (or already) broken family.


End file.
